


Wishing for a New Past

by redirectingourselvestotheunknown



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Hargrove is a Mess, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Post-Season/Series 02, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 13:20:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19724479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redirectingourselvestotheunknown/pseuds/redirectingourselvestotheunknown
Summary: The look Billy gave isn't one Steve would expect, something tired and beaten down. He could recognize it.From childhood, when he finally understood that his parents wouldn't show up to any of his baseball games.From after Halloween, when he heard the word bullshit slurred seven times.





	Wishing for a New Past

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic please be nice :')
> 
> edit: I originally tried to make this a multi chapter fiction but it didn't go so well lol, so I'm keeping it as a one shot.

Steve was no fan of heights. That one night that he climbed up Nancy’s house to her window was definitely not a fun experience, but he was willing to do it because he loved Nancy, but that went down the drain over the past two years. The fact that he was now on his own roof helping Billy Hargrove into his room? Not exactly fun either. But the blood pouring from his face was enough to power through the fear. 

He and Billy were not on good terms, beating someone up can do that to a relationship. But over the past two months after the whole Mind Flayer debacle, and Max’s bat wielding, Billy’s aggressive nature had sure died down. When the passed in the hallways at school, Billy would either ignore him or just silently nod at him, only truly interacting with him during basketball. Now all that Steve had to worry about was graduating in less than 5 months, no ‘demodogs’ (Steve hated that, but Dustin had made it stick), and not Billy. Or, so he had thought.

Steve was eating dinner with his parents and younger brother, a rare occasion, when a sudden knock came from the door. Steve got to the door, and there was Billy, a tired smirk on his face, saying, “Hey pretty boy.”

Now on any other circumstance, Steve would have shut the door immediately, after politely telling Billy to fuck off. But the mother instinct that the dumbass kids had drilled into him caused him to grab Billy when he swayed forward, no matter the blood that dripped onto his nice shirt. 

“Steven? Who is it?” Steve’s mother yelled from the dining room, causing him to curse under his breath. 

“Just a friend!” Steve yelled back, ignoring Billy’s mumbling that caused blood to dribble onto his lips, “I’ll be back inside in a few!”

“Mmm, do I smell meatloaf Stevie?” Billy said as Steve shut the door, making him glare. 

“What do you want? What the fuck happened to your face?” Steve hissed, walking them to the side of the house, knowing his mother was probably going to look out of the windows to see if Steve was talking to a girl. 

“You know that liquor store by the edge of town? Turns out a big man works there and doesn’t like bribes.” Billy says, laughing, only causing him to wince, “But don’t worry, he looks worse.”

Steve rolls his eyes and looks down at Billy, who probably wouldn’t be standing if Steve wasn’t propping him against himself, arm holding him. 

“Yeah, right,” he says, glad for the trees on the side of his house, blocking them from the neighbors, “but why did you come here? I know I’m not on the top of your list of friends.”

Billy grabs his side as he removes himself from Steve’s grasp, and instead leans onto the wall, deciding to look at the shrubbery, and says, “Max never stops talking about you. You like some shitty music, your pool is ‘awesome’, and you always help.” Billy finally looks Steve in the eye, and finishes, “I guess I need some help.”

“That was probably about math homework, but-” Steve sighs, “do you think you can climb?”

That led to Steve swallowing his fear and climbing up the side of his house, helping Billy up and into his room, glad he cleaned up earlier so Billy couldn’t poke fun at any underwear on the ground or some shit like that. Steve moved the thick comforter off his bed and made Billy sit down, he already had enough blood on his shirt, he didn’t need any on his comforter.

After a few minutes, he had Billy cleaning the blood off his face and hands and had changed his shirt, and now he needed to go back to dinner. 

“I’ll… be back, okay? Just don’t make any noises, my parents are downstairs and if they find you they’ll definitely call Hopper, so just get rid of the blood and- be quiet.”

“Hopper? The sheriff? Why do you call him Ho-” Billy starts, but Steve just cuts him off with a long shush and starts opening up the window to climb out. 

"I just want a nice, easy life. What's wrong with that?" Steve mutters to himself as he climbs out, hands trembling as he looks down. 

Steve manages to get out of dinner with a few questions, not even one about the new shirt. His brother was talking about something dumb that got all of his parent’s attention, and for the first time, Steve was glad for his obnoxious nature. He slips out about 15 minutes later, saying something about homework, and takes a bag of chips up to his room for Billy. 

When he does get to his room, Billy is passed out on his bed, face down. Steve lets out a long sigh, something that is usually saved for Dustin, when he thinks about all the cuts on Billy’s face. He should wake him up and put something on them, Neosporin at least. He’s going to get his face infected and DIE.

Wait- Steve thinks to himself, standing in the middle of his room like a dumbass, why is he treating Bily like this? Let his face infected, it’s not like they’re friends or anything. 

He nods to himself, but then looks over to Billy and sees his face has turned and he’s staring at Steve, face mushed against the pillow. 

“Uhhh, chips?” Steve says dumbly, not sure how long Billy had watched him talk to himself, most likely just making faces as he thought different things. 

Billy sits up and shakes his head no, and Steve sees that the pillow is thankfully free of any blood stains, but also the full range of the cuts and forming bruises on Billy’s face. Suddenly all of Steve’s resolve dies and the mother instinct is back in full force, making him set the chips down on his desk and go into the bathroom to get his first aid kit. The last time he used this was when he got home after fighting Billy at the Byer’s house. Ironic. 

He brings his desk chair next to where Billy is sitting on his bed, opening the kit on his legs. He expects to just see some gauze and tape, but a green paper with large and messy letter covers the contents under, and Steve could recognize the writing as Dustin’s, but why he had infiltrated his first aid seems odd. 

Steve if your you’re hurt call me!! You better not have gotten beat up again, you should learn to fight. 

Of course. 

Steve shook his head, smiling slightly before setting the paper down on the bed and to go back to finding the things for Billy. When he looks up he sees that said menace was reading the paper, scratching one of the cuts on his face. Steve first smacks Billy’s hand away, causing a baffled reaction, and snatches the paper from Billy’s view, oddly protective. 

“What was that? You don’t hit the patient,” Billy says, fake pouting, “bad bedside manner, doll.”

“Shut up, and don’t scratch it, you’ll make it worse,” Steve mutters, feeling an anger-induced blush coming up from his neck, his ears warm.

Billy rolls his eyes and drops his pout, changing into a neutral face, and Steve gets to work. Somehow Billy never winces, even when Steve accidentally pushes too hard on a forming bruise. 

“So… what was that paper? I would guess a girlfriend but that was horrid handwriting,” Billy says, making Steve sit up a bit, Billy looking up at the ceiling so Steve could get to a small cut on his jaw.

“Just a friend, he’s a little bastard but is cooler than me.”

“I thought you only hung out with those brats, I didn’t know you had any friends.” Billy says, no real malice but it still made Steve angry.

Steve sat back up abruptly from where he was cleaning off the slash, Billy flinching backward, head back down and gave him a stern look, “Say whatever you like about me, but leave the kids out of it. They’ve been through enough and don’t deserve any shit from you.”

Billy says nothing and continues to stare him down with his icy blue eyes, before taking his silence as permission to lay down apparently, and goes straight down. 

“I have friends, Nancy and Jonathan. But that note wasn’t from them, it was Dustin’s handiwork,” Steve says, only really trying to soften the quiet that sprouted between the two. 

“Who? Do you mean that really tall weed guy in junior year?” Billy asks, voice quieter than Steve had ever heard it, or thought it could be. 

To him, Billy is the personification of loud. His car is always screeching into the school parking lot, music blasting. His laugh barks through the cafeteria and basketball court, trash talking a second language. His outfits, bright eyes, and sneaky tongue showing bringing eyes to him.

But this side reminds him of Jonathan a little. Quiet but curious, eyes piercing.

“No, that’s Devin, and I wouldn’t classify him as ‘weed guy’. His weed sucks,” Steve says, wishing for a better chair, the hard seat making him to shift around often. 

Billy’s head goes up, and his body follows, choosing to move his body onto his stomach, facing Steve, head resting on his hands and feet swaying back and forth behind him like a girl. 

“Oh, my~ Mr. Perfect King Steve smokes weed? What a scandal,” Billy sing-songs snobbishly, eyes scrunching up at the corners.

Steve rolls his eyes for the second time today, and mutters, “Used to, Tommy’s really into it, and you would know how he is.”

“Yeah, the prick’s real pushy.”

With feeling the need to change the conversation, Steve sighs and shifts forward, elbows on knees, face closer to Billy’s. 

“You got any other cuts? Maybe a brain injury from a baby fall?” Steve deadpans and gets an unexpected reaction, Billy’s booming laughter.

Quickly, Steve puts his hands over Billy’s mouth, eyes shooting to the door and listening for his parents’ or brother’s footsteps coming to his room. With nothing heard, Steve lets out a relieved breath, letting his hands drop.

“What do you not understand about quiet asshole,” Steve says, and with no response from Billy he ends up getting onto his feet and turning his radio on, turning the volume down only slightly.

Billy makes a face, whether it’s at Steve’s words or at his music is unknown, but Steve could care less.  
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Steve asks, sitting back down, watching Billy move once again, taking a normal sitting position, knees brushing against Steve’s. 

Billy winks and says, “Just some bruising I think, nothing too much for me.”

“Well, it’s getting late and I didn’t see your car, so you should stay the night if you won't get in trouble." Steve says as Billy begins looking around the room. 

"I think I can handle the setting sun, pretty boy." Billy responds, his head facing away, but still looking at Steve from the corner of his eye. 

The look Billy gave isn't one Steve would expect, something tired and beaten down. He could recognize it. 

From childhood, when he finally understood that his parents wouldn't show up to any of his baseball games.

From after Halloween, when he heard the word bullshit slurred seven times. 

"You're staying."

**Author's Note:**

> thank you and goodnight


End file.
